What it takes
by Violetta Jones
Summary: Where Zoro's an idiot. And Sanji's an idiot too. But eventually, they might find each other.
1. Zoro

_This has been sitting on my computer for some time, and I decided I might as well post it (after some serious editing, because I had a huge brainfart when I wrote it, and never noticed). I usually don't do fluff, and I don't even know if I'm any good at it. Please, bear with me._

_A thousand thanks to my friend, Aevium, who agreed to beta this for me. Did I ever tell you she rocks? I think I did, but I'll say it again : Aevium rocks._

_I don't own One Piece. All I own is a fat, black cat, with a white spot on his belly (which he flashes at me all the time, expecting attention) and an unhealthy TV addiction. Yeah, right._

ooo

It's been a long time, already, since I last saw your stupid face. A long time, since I last saw your silly smile. Or had the chance to hear you banter on random shit, like you usually do.

Two years. It's been two years. I can't believe it's already been two years since I last heard your annoying voice.

I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize.

We used to fight a lot. Everyday, for the smallest, most irrelevant things, we would fight. You'd insult my hair. I'd insult your cooking. You'd call me lazy and stupid. I'd retort that at least I wasn't a pervert. We'd bicker to no end, until swords were drawn and kicks were thrown. We'd be at each other's throats on a daily basis. We could never have a regular conversation, for what I used to think was the longest time – though I changed my mind about that, during these two long years. Maybe all that bickering was our way of communicating with each other, in the end. And maybe that's why I didn't realize earlier – it was misleading.

The only times we didn't argue about one thing or another was when we fought – against marines, pirates, or whatever creature would stand in the way. We were undeniably together, then. I had your back, and you had mine. I never admitted it, not even to myself, and certainly not out loud, but it was the only thing that mattered to me. We were friends, in that regard. As it turned out, it was pretty important that, even then, I felt this way about you.

I don't know if I'd have realized how I felt about you if it weren't for that reckless bullshit you pulled on me. Exchanging your life for mine – such a waste. My life isn't worth more than yours, and it was stupid of you to think so, even for a moment. For some time, I thought that stunt was dictated by pride, because, after all, there's always been some kind of rivalry, of competition between us. But after reflecting upon it and being utterly troubled by that thought for two years, I've changed my mind. Nowadays, I like to think that there was more to it than the simple urge to prove yourself. I like to think that, back then, you simply had my back, as usual.

Of course, I wouldn't let you.

Dumb, heroic shit-cook. Heroes rarely survive, you know. Of course, you are well aware that I'm speaking from experience here.

I thought you'd hate me for knocking you out, thus preventing you from making such a noble – and stupid – sacrifice. But you never did. Sure, you resented me. But what I saw in your eyes when you confronted me about it was so much more than pride.

Yeah, I like to think that.

But really, I thought you'd hate me. Just like you had always done, right from the first day we met. But that day, when you tried to shield me from an impending death, stumbling under the weight of a thousand wounds – you were in no better shape than I was – it was such a reckless thing to do. You knew perfectly you couldn't take it, and yet, you tried to protect me.

I never got to thank you. When you asked me why I hadn't let you take my place – like the stubborn shit-head I was, in your own words – that day, all I ended up telling you was how stupid you had been to even think of trying. After that, for a moment, you stood there silently, your hair obscuring your face, your shoulders slightly slumping, as if that red-haired witch had denied you the right to rub sunscreen on her back, on a sunny day. When you glanced up at me, I could see your eyes – and their striking color that fascinated me, even then – were glazed with an unnamed emotion. I didn't understand back then. I thought you were feeling betrayed for some reason, and actually, maybe you were.

And then, you were all taken away from me. I didn't think I'd miss you that much, to be honest. The break was too abrupt, and I never had the chance to reflect on it before it happened.

And yet, somehow, I missed you.

At first, I didn't understand why it was you I was thinking about the most while we all were apart. Of course, I missed the others, despite all their annoying antics and quirks. But when I woke up, after being sent flying away from you guys, my first thoughts were for you. I wondered why I wasn't dead, and, in a sudden rush of anxiety that twisted my already aching gut, I wondered if you had finally succeeded in wasting your life, trying to save mine. Such a useless sacrifice. Then, an overwhelming pain even I couldn't handle took over. I slid into a coma-like, dreamless sleep, wondering if you were fine.

I was still worried, afterwards, but I trusted that, if I was still alive – and it had seemed so unlikely that I'd survive when that huge hand hit me – then, there was a good chance that you would be, too. And when I stopped berating myself for being unable to save you all – though I barely even showed it, not my style – then, I started to miss you a lot more than I thought possible.

I really didn't understand at first. I didn't get why I would be missing the one person I couldn't stand, the one that used to perpetually nag at me, insult me, the person I got along with the least of all. But it was overwhelming. And before long, I started questioning these strange feelings I had, when I thought about you.

It was very destabilizing. All I could see when I closed my eyes were yours, blue and bright like a resounding summer sky. I thought about you all the time. Whenever I let my thoughts wander, whether I was meditating or drifting into sleep, inevitably, it's you I thought about.

And then, the dreams started. At first, they were innocent enough. You were just there. Sometimes, we'd exchange a few words. What mattered then was that, in my dreams, you were here with me. Soon enough, though, these turned out to be a lot less ingenuous than they started out as. You'd start ruffling my hair, stroking the skin on my arms with these talented hands of yours, sneaking careful fingers under my shirt. You'd let me hold you, clinging to me as if you'd never let go. These dreams were strikingly vivid, and I found myself instinctively indulging in them, even when we started getting much too close to each other for my own comfort.

I can't even remember how many times I woke up, your voice in my ears, your name on my lips, and the lingering sensation of soft skin and hair on my fingertips.

This was what unsettled me the most. Never in my life, before that time, had I ever even come close to wanting anyone like I wanted you. The fact you were a man yourself soon became irrelevant, though it prompted much questioning within me at first. But really, it didn't matter. What mattered were the feelings I had, and whether you would return them or not.

Of course, I didn't have much hope in that regard. And I wouldn't know, anyway. You weren't there, miles and miles away, for all I knew – if you were still alive, though I never really doubted that. I had no means of contacting you, of course, since I didn't know where you were. Nevertheless, after some time thinking about it all, I decided that if I had the chance, if we ever were to meet again, I'd let you know about these feelings I harbored for you. Even then, I wasn't sure I'd be able to voice it, but I'd make sure you knew, even if there was no hope that you'd ever feel the same.

The days went by, and my feelings didn't go away. Months passed, and they became stronger. After two years, I could tell this was no phase, no whim on my part – but come on, since when have I been known to have _whims_? That's Luffy's thing. I'm no romantic either, but as far as I could tell, these feelings were genuine. They were so strong I hesitated to put a name on them. It felt like my heart was ensnared, and I felt trapped, at first. But I knew, somehow, that I wasn't about to find myself freed from them.

When I left that island I was sent to, I was filled with expectancy, at the thought that I'd most likely see you again. But by the time I reached the Sabaody Archipelago, I was filled with a foreign apprehension. I'm not used to such feelings. And since I was the first to get there, I waited for you to join me.

When you finally did, when I saw your scowling face, heard your annoying voice, overcome by irritation at some random thing I did and for the first time in these two long years, I wanted to laugh. It was strangely exhilarating how I felt a heavy burden of worry I didn't even notice was there lift in a split second. You were even more handsome, after all this time. And, despite everything I'd been through, after all these musings and resolutions, I found myself ultimately unable to reach out and hold you. I couldn't to tell you all these things I had spent the past two years agonizing over, because I wasn't able to do so. Really, it was ridiculous. But I was paralyzed by a mix of fear, apprehension, anxiety at your reaction – a potential disaster – and my own insecurities. I didn't know how badly you'd take my confession, which effectively prevented me from saying anything.

I still wanted to tell you, though. I didn't want to regret it, later. But I felt lost. I didn't know if I'd be able to take rejection, after all this time longing for you.

We started walking away from the shore. You scoffed, insulted my hair and rambled about my lazy habits. And then, you did something I never expected from you.

I saw your ridiculous eyebrow scrunch into a pained knot, and suddenly, you turned around, looking as if you didn't want me to see your face. The air between us stood still for a moment. Your back was tense, and when I saw your shoulders shudder faintly, I had to know what was wrong. So, I crossed the few feet that stood between us, and placed a hand on your shoulder, making you turn around gently. Your eyes were glued to the floor, obscured by your long bang. I raised a hand, trying not to let it quiver too much, which was actually difficult – I'd never been so close to you, or touching you in such an intimate fashion – and I brushed that blond curtain aside.

Your face was twitching under restrained emotions, and I was a bit bewildered to see a reluctant tear, spilling from your left eye and slowly rolling down your cheek. Your lips trembled, tightly pursed in a thin, scowling line. Trying to be gentle, I lifted your chin between my fingers, so you would look at me. I don't know what kind of expression my face was displaying, at that same moment, but I'm sure you must have seen something there, because that's when you clenched your fists in my coat, and started talking.

"I..." You stopped, swallowing thickly, but soon resuming. "I wasn't worried, you dumbass. I knew you were fine, all this time."

Once again, you tried looking away, but I didn't let you. My hand cupped your face, and I stared into the infinite ocean of your eyes as they darted up, slightly widening, as if you weren't sure this was really happening. You soon got over the surprise, sniffled pitifully, and I barely restrained a faint snort. You said I was an idiot, and I kissed you.

I had kissed before, and I'd been kissed a few times as well. But at that time, when your hesitant lips met mine, that kiss we shared felt like it was the first I'd ever tasted.


	2. Sanji

_Author's notes :_

_Here's Sanji's side of this story, minus the brainfart stuff. I think Aevium deserves kudos for pointing this out to me, since without her insightful input, everybody would've known that I fail at characterization._

_Did I ever mention that I love reviews and PMs? And that I always respond to them (aside from anonymous reviews), even if I'm overwhelmed with school work? In any case, constructive criticism is always appreciated, and much needed, if I ever want to improve my awkward writing. That being said, I'll be computer-less for some time starting tonight, since I'm upgrading my beloved companion (I'm a dork), and exams are fast approaching. I don't know how well I'll fare with review follow-up, but I'll do my best. Wish me luck._

_I don't own these characters, but I have so much love for them that it makes me die a little inside._

ooo

I am an idiot.

As if my whole life didn't already feel like a succession of wasted chances and missed opportunities, meeting you only made things worse. Maybe I should blame myself and my shitty temper for that – actually, I do, a little... a lot. And maybe I should resent you as well, if only I could, for being such a dumbass and making things harder for me, by not taking the clues when I'd thrown right into your face. But what did I expect anyway? In the end, I'm the one who brought this shit upon myself, and I didn't need your help with that.

Curse that shitty temper. I'm such a fucking idiot.

Ever since we met, I've had this dichotomic appreciation of your character. I first thought you were raving mad, endangering yourself when you knew you didn't stand a chance. But at the same time, it only proved that you had the courage to live up to your dreams, the courage I never had – though, thanks to Luffy and that shitty old man, things changed shortly afterward.

You have no idea how much I admired and envied you for that, as well as that stoic demeanor you showed the world – yet another thing I could never do.

These feelings never disappeared, even when the bickering started. And actually, they're exactly what started it. I admired you so much, and your overall behavior was so cold and distant... I couldn't help it. Before long, I wanted to scratch the surface and reveal what was underneath. Or maybe I only wanted to get closer to you. I don't know anymore. All I know is that I couldn't help but try to get your attention. And since I'm such an idiot, the only way I knew of doing that was antagonizing you, as soon as I found the slightest excuse.

As if I could help it, anyway.

At first, you ignored me. We'd fight all the time, and usually, I was the one who started it. But it did me no good at all, because, soon enough, you started issuing retorts that were witty enough to unsettle me. Every time you'd scoff at some stupid shit I said, it would only make me more annoyed at you – and at myself. Before long, the mere sight of your damn shitty hair, of your stupidly impassive face would plunge me into the deepest irritated state. And as days passed, my aggravation at your whole demeanor grew, until it reached levels unheard of. Not only were you an ill-bred boor, disrespectful of ladies, but most of the time, my perpetual nagging wouldn't even leave a scratch that thick armor of yours, whereas your insults would drive me crazy more often than not. Since you were the silent type to begin with, I never thought you'd have such a good sense of repartee.

It triggered a lot of frustration on my part, which I think you noticed after some time. And, surprisingly enough, you took advantage of that, taking an active part in what was rapidly becoming routine for us.

I didn't understand at first. I finally had your attention, so why wasn't I satisfied when you went along with the flow? It took me some time to realize that I wanted more than your attention. I wanted your respect. I wanted you to treat me as an equal. I only wanted you to acknowledge me. I also realized that, because of that shitty, uncontrolled mouth of mine, I may have spoiled it all.

But yeah, what did I expect, anyway? You were strong, most likely stronger than I was, though I'd never admit it in front of anyone. Despite everything I said, all the insults I threw in your general direction, in the end, I didn't think you were really that stupid. You even had the wits to match mine, when you deemed the situation worthy of using your tongue for clever, irritating retorts that ineluctably got on my nerves. Of course I'd be no match for you, because everything about you was admirable.

I was such a coward about it. Even knowing I had gone the wrong way with it all, I went on with the bickering. At some point, I even convinced myself that it was enough.

And then, shit happened. I shouldn't have been surprised, because it always does.

I was almost out cold, laying on some pile of rubble. My whole body hurt, especially my leg, which was most likely broken, and I thought we were all going to die. I heard voices – your voice, deep and strained like you'd been fighting for days, and somehow, it comforted me, knowing you were still alive. But then, the words you were saying finally started making sense, in my fuzzy brain, and my eyes darted open. I couldn't believe the shit you were uttering, talking about wasting your life like it didn't matter, like it wasn't worth shit. About letting go of your dream, when in fact, you were the most eager of us all to follow through with it.

My eyes darted open. What kind of bullshit was that? What about your fucking promise? Your dedication to it was one of the things I admired the most about you, and you were ready to throw it away, just... just like that? Dumb, stupid sacrificial jerk. I knew what was going on in your head, and it was all good and chivalrous, for once, but I wouldn't let you waste your life away.

So, I ignored the pain in my leg, in my cracked ribs, in my whole body, and slowly stood up. I had to reach you before you committed the biggest mistake of your life. My vision was blurry, and I thanked fate, god, or whatever superior being was up there for the fact your hair was green, and thus, hard to miss, even when I couldn't see shit. I don't think you heard me approaching your position, because when I stood between you and that freaky guy, stumbling as I did, you fell silent for what felt like the longest time. Only proved you were in pretty bad shape yourself, you big, goddamn idiot. I stood upright and lit a cigarette, and I could feel the burning of your eyes, staring at my back as if they could pierce through it.

I tried to save you, to protect you. I really did. But no sooner did I issue my challenge that a tremendously painful blow landed on my already cracked ribs, reverberating through my whole body. My legs betrayed me, my eyes scrunched, small pain-induced tears falling from their corners against my own will. When I opened them, an unwelcome, dark haze started surrounding the edges of my peripheral vision. I glanced up as I fell to my knees, eyes widening in disbelief as I realized you were responsible for that blow. You wanted to knock me out, so I couldn't interfere, that much was pretty clear to me. I accusingly glared at you with all the strength I had left. But already, my consciousness was fading, and all I could do was grab whatever piece of you was in reach. I felt your fever-warm skin under my fingers, and then, I was gone.

It was so unfair.

I woke up thinking you were dead. That was the most terrible thought that ever occurred to me, ever since I was rescued from that forsaken rock in the middle of nowhere, the one I was forced to survive on for such a long time. And actually, it was worse. I thought you were gone forever, that I had been unable to protect you – you were the one who usually did that, for the entire crew, while Luffy was usually too busy fighting on his own. So, if I couldn't do it, who would protect you? As soon as I could muster up the strength, I started looking for you. I couldn't believe you were gone just like that, without a sound – all greatest swordsman and cocky smirk one moment, and out cold the next? I just couldn't believe it.

And I was right, after all, because in the end, you'd survived. But in what kind of fucking state... There was no way I'd believe you when you told me nothing happened. I was in no condition to, anyway. My relief had been so intense when I realized you were still alive that I had to concentrate, just to stand straight and keep my eyes dry. I'd have hated to break down from relief in front of you, after what had just happened, after all you'd been through. Whatever it was.

Afterward, I spent the longest time at your bedside, watching you breathe in that coma-like sleep, ruminating on the whole event and not quite getting what it all had been about, in the end. It's then that I realized with increasing awareness how close I had been to losing you. I'd always known how eager I had been, since we'd met, to obtain your approval, your acknowledgment – your respect. But I had never realized how desperate I was to earn these from you. And I was scared to discover that I wanted more. I wanted your love, and it drove me into a deep state of bewilderment.

During these long hours that stretched into days, as I'd hoped you'd make it, eventually, I realized that what I had been feeling all along was love, not just admiration, and it left me tremendously confused. I had never loved like that. So completely. And of course, never in my right mind had I imagined that I'd feel that way for another man. I didn't understand how it was even possible. I was known as a lady's man – and moreover, I saw myself as one. I wouldn't lie and pretend I was unable to recognize beauty in other men, but it generally pissed me off more than anything else.

However, this wasn't about looks. It had never been – though I'll admit, now that I've accepted that new, surprising part of myself, and, even though it took me a long time, that I'm far from indifferent to your unusual attractiveness. And I've never been indifferent to you, not even at the beginning, when your peculiar hair and handsome face annoyed me to no end. But no, it was never about looks. It was about who you were, and the challenge you were to me. As I said earlier, I wanted you to acknowledge me, as I never wanted anyone to before – aside maybe from that stubborn shitty old man with a shitty mustache, but that's another matter, entirely. I wanted to be as great as you were, and maybe, along the way, these feelings got too strong to remain solely made up of admiration and envy. Or maybe I'd been in love with you all along, from the first time I laid my eyes upon you, and I was just too damn stupid to realize.

A short time after I began to understand what was going on in my own mind and heart – though it didn't make things easier to accept, and trust me, I had trouble doing that – even more shit happened. As if it had only been waiting for me to question myself on one of the most important aspects of my life. And I landed on that _fucking island_. How ironical.

I woke up in hell. I was worried about the others, about you, though I reckoned that, if I was still alive, you would, too. But you were badly injured, even before all that shit came up, and not knowing if you were all right drove me mad with worry. In the first months, I ended up not sleeping much, for my sleep was plagued with nightmares about you. It got slightly better, eventually.

I had two whole years to reflect on you, me, and the "relationship" we had established over the months since we first met, as well as what I felt for you. You have no idea how hard it was. I had thought before that what I felt for you made me less of a man. And that shitty island with those shitty _okama_ could have made things worse – actually, it did, at some point. But after nearly losing myself and being back from whatever cross-dressing hell my treacherous mind had been sent to, I decided that it didn't matter, as long as I never pulled that shit again. Nothing could be worse than being forced to wear a dress and bloomers. Merely thinking about it makes me shudder in disgust.

After these two years in hell, I was more than eager to see you again – I knew you were still alive, I never even doubted that, for you were, my dear dumbass marimo, such a brute force of nature to reckon with. I couldn't wait to see your stupid, gruff, handsome manly face, so different from all those shitty _okama_'s ugly mugs. I didn't know what would happen when we'd meet again, but I knew I wouldn't let you know. There was no way in hell you'd feel the same, I knew that, and I had come to terms with it. It drowned me into despair, whenever I thought about it for too long, so I tried, somewhat successfully, not to dwell on it.

And then, the two years went by, and I finally reached the Sabaody Archipelago, leaving those shitty cross-dressers behind for good, I hope. I reached that place, and when I was told that you arrived days earlier, my heart skipped a beat. You were really alive, after all.

I went to search for you. I knew you would have trouble finding your way to the ship.

I searched and searched, enjoying the wonderful view – real, beautiful ladies, everywhere! – but I never strayed off my path. I wanted to see you so eagerly. It was almost painful.

And then, you were there, in front of me, and I forgot everything else.

You changed during these two years. You became visibly stronger, and it seemed to me that stupid, perpetual frown of yours got a little deeper in its natural state. I felt a tad intimidated at first, but after a couple seconds, I managed to throw an insult at you, just like I used to, before. And just like before, you were soon to retort, and smirked. That smile of yours hadn't changed. I tried to be casual about it, at first, and I managed to put up a front for a while. But as we were bickering lightly, walking through the archipelago's streets, I suddenly found myself nearly stumbling under the weight of these two years of separation, of everything I had been through since then, and I couldn't take it.

I felt my eyes prickle with fresh tears. I tried to hold them back, to reign them in – I couldn't show you these. I couldn't let you know. I tried to hide it, but you wouldn't let me. You grabbed my shoulder gently, and forced me to turn around, to face you, and lay my emotions bare. It was too late to run away – nowhere left to go, but forwards. And yet, I tried to temporize. I tried pretending I was never worried, when in fact, it ate at me from within. But you – admirable you – you weren't fooled. You knew better. Or maybe my expressive face betrayed me once again – but if that was the case, I'm glad it did. Because you brushed my hair out of my face with a gentle hand, and stared into my eyes for what seemed like an infinite time. I wasn't unsettled by that. There was something new in your eyes, a warmth, a different quality from when we last met. I never wondered what it was, because at that point, stripped naked by your dark, fond gaze, I was ready to take whatever you were willing to give me, even if it wasn't much.

You cautiously lowered your head towards mine, as if you weren't sure yourself of what you were doing, and your lips tentatively pressed against mine.

It wasn't my first kiss, far from it. But as we lost ourselves into each other, I finally realized that I had searched for someone like you, for you, my whole life. Even as you were right next to me, and I'd never realized it. It took me so long to realize that I almost chuckled against your lips, at that thought.

It seemed I would have to search no more.

ooo

_And then, Sanji kicked Zoro's ass for kissing him in a place where anyone could see._


End file.
